Relief
by ironheartwriter
Summary: Mike's attempt at getting some relief for his PTSD symptoms doesn't go exactly as he hoped.


AN: A new week, a new Maxton oneshot. This idea came to me late at night, and it's a little dark, just be aware of that, especially about halfway through. Other than that, enjoy!

* * *

><p>Mike sighed softly as he turned over the bottle he held in his hand, the pills within clinking softly against the plastic. He wasn't even sure why he had agreed to try taking them. He <em>loathed<em> the idea of turning to pills to help with the PSTD symptoms he was experiencing, but he was starting to feel like he truly was losing what was left of his mind. He couldn't sleep. There were days where he could barely let Max get close to him. The jittery feeling came and went every week or so, and right now it was back in full force with him jumping every time someone touched him without him expecting it. He'd had enough of trying to deal with it on his own and dumping it all on Max, so when his doctor suggested trying this pill, one with a long, drawn out scientific name, he figured what was the worst that could happen?

Max, as always, had been completely supportive, though surprised that he'd actually agreed to try a pill when for months he'd refused to even consider doing so. But that was Max in a nutshell, always supportive, always nurturing, even on the days where he pushed her away and jumped when she touched him. She, for some reason that Mike couldn't figure out, never seemed to give up on him, even though he was fairly certain that he didn't deserve the love, care, and affection she gave him.

Mike was brought out of his thoughts as Max appeared through the front door, removing her gun holster as she always did when she stepped into the apartment. She smiled as she walked over to him, carrying two bags of Chinese food that smelled incredible. She put the bags down and leaned over to kiss Mike softly, "Hey, you," She said in a soft tone. She looked at the bottle that he was still playing with, spinning it between his fingers, "Are those the pills?"

Mike nodded, offering the bottle to Max so that she could take a look at it while he got to his feet to get some plates and cups from one of the cabinets. He was starving, and he knew Max had to be too. He put the plates down and then went to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of iced tea and…

"Ah-ah," Max said when she saw the beer that Mike pulled out of the fridge. She tilted her head, giving Mike a slightly amused look, "Did you _read_ the bottle while you were playing with it?" She asked as she put the bottle back on the table and opening the bags of food, "It says 'do not take with alcohol.' Last I checked, beer was still alcohol, Mike."

"Damn," Mike said with a pout. He put the beer back, but was thankful that he had Max watching out for him; she was his own guardian angel of sorts, "To answer your question, no, I didn't read it. I figured I'd read it before I took them. Guess it's good I have you keeping an eye out for me."

"Someone has to," Max smiled at Mike with a shake of her head. She knew if that Mike was on his own, he likely wouldn't be taking very good care of himself. At least she was able to help encourage him to get the help he needed. She reached out and gave his hand a soft squeeze, "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you," She said as she poured herself some ice tea. "For at least being open to trying something like this."

"I miss sleeping," Mike said with a soft sigh. He opened one of the boxes of Chinese food and took some rice for himself. "I miss sleeping and I miss being able to actually live my life like a normal human being. At this point, I'm willing to try anything once."

"And you _still_ won't consider just going to a regular psychiatrist?" Max asked as she took a bite of a wonton. She and Mike had this same conversation at least once a week. Mike talked to her and got things off of his mind when he needed to, but she knew that he needed more help than she could give him.

Mike inhaled slowly and deeply, looking down at his plate of food. He hated having this conversation, but he knew that they wouldn't be having it if Max didn't worry about him, "I'll tell you what," He said, playing with his fork as he thought for a moment, "If these pills don't work, I'll get a referral to a shrink."

"You _have_ a referral to a shrink," Max reminded him, glancing towards the fridge where a piece of paper was stuck with a magnet.

"Well then, I'll actually make an appointment," Mike clarified with a nod, "On the condition that you agree to go with me to the first appointment."

"Deal," Max said without having to think about it. At that point, she would do anything to get him to talk to a psychiatrist, even if it meant going to the appointment with him. There were _very_ few things that she wouldn't do for him if it meant that it had a chance of helping him get better.

They ate their dinner, Max telling Mike about the case she was working, the last case she was finishing up for the NYPD before she was going to be heading to Quantico for some training. It was close to being finished, and Max was starting to feel like she was closing one chapter of her life to start on another. She was happy, though. Being part of the FBI seemed like the right thing for her, all things considered.

Once dinner was done and cleaned up, Mike took a few minutes to read the warnings and directions on the pill bottle before finally taking the first one. Max was curled up on the couch, watching an episode of Law and Order: SVU. Mike smiled at her, opening his mouth, "See? All gone," He said with a soft laugh, proving that he had taken his pill like a child. He slid onto the couch behind her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close to watch with her. Max turned to him, giving him a warm smile and kissing him softly before resting against him and turning her attention back to the TV, linking their fingers over her abdomen.

The episode was almost over when Mike started to feel very warm. Out of nowhere, his body felt as though someone had just turned up the heat. He shifted slightly, rubbing at his forehead. Max, as though she had sensed something was bothering him, turned to face him once again, "You alright?"

"Is it warm in here?" Mike asked, sitting up and taking a sip from a cup of water that Max had on the coffee table. "Or is it just me?"

Max tilted her head, "I'm fine," She said with a shake of her head. She got to her feet, a look of concern appearing on her face, "I can go check the thermostat though, just in case." As she got up, though, she put her hand on Mike's forehead for a moment before pressing her lips to the area. He felt a little warm to her, but he was often warmer than she was, she had come to realize. She checked the thermostat, seeing that it hadn't changed from the seventy-two degrees she had set it to that morning.

On her way back to the living room, Max stopped by the kitchen, getting Mike a cold water bottle from the fridge, "The thermostat says the temperature hasn't changed," She said, sitting on the coffee table so she could face him as she handed him the water bottle which he accepted with a thanks. She watched him for a moment as he drank, not missing the way that his normally pale skin had seemed to lose color even more in the time that she had been gone.

"Leave it to me to get prescribed a pill that has shitty side effects," Mike said with a sigh after draining half the water bottle. He leaned forward, his arms on his knees as he looked up at Max. Max gave him a sympathetic look in return, wishing that she could figure out something to say that could possibly help him feel a little better.

"Come on," Max said, getting to her feet with a reassuring smile. She helped Mike get to his feet, allowing him to lean on her. She gave his side a soft squeeze "I think you'll be more comfortable in bed."

"I think you're right," Mike said, allowing Max to lead him to the bedroom they now shared. He felt like hell. One minute he was hot, the next there was a chill passing through him, almost as though he had suddenly gotten sick. He sat down on the bed with a soft sigh, taking the water bottle back from Max and taking another sip from it, his hands shaking as he did so. "What the fuck…?"

Max blinked as she watched him carefully. She was starting to have a very uneasy feeling about the way that his body was clearly reacting to the pill he had taken, "Mike, your hands are shaking?"

"Seems that way," Mike sighed, clenching and unclenching his hands, but not able to stop the shaking. He'd never had a reaction like this before. He lifted the bottle to his lips again, this time spilling some water on the front of his shirt. "Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me?"

"It's got to be that pill," Max said without a doubt in her mind. She walked into the bathroom and found the thermometer she kept in the medicine cabinet. "Put this under your tongue," She said, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'll be right back, I'm going to call Ryan and Gwen and see if she can suggest something or if I need to take you to the hospital."

Mike nodded as he put the thermometer under his tongue while Max went to go find the bottle of pills that Mike had left in the kitchen. She called Gwen quickly, who advised her to keep an eye on Mike through the night and take him to the doctor in the morning if things got worse. In other words, it was going to be a long night. She returned to the bedroom to see Mike lying back with the thermometer in his mouth. It started beeping as she walked up to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You've got a low grade fever, nothing to worry about right now," Max said with a shake of her head as she put the thermometer on the nightstand, taking one of Mike's hands in hers, not missing the way it was still trembling. "Gwen says I should let you rest tonight and take you to the doctor in the morning if the symptoms don't go away. It's not uncommon for people to react badly to this medicine, apparently."

"So much for it helping me sleep," Mike rolled his eyes. He should have known that taking a pill to try and make his problems go away would come back to bite him in the ass. There really was proving to be no simple solution to getting his life back on track. He inhaled shakily and sat up, but regretted doing so almost instantly as the entire room shifted. He grabbed onto Max's hand as he looked at her, his eyes wide with confusion.

"Dizziness?" Max asked with a frown. Mike nodded and Max gently pushed him back into bed, "You need to just lie down and breathe, Mike," She said in a soft tone. She kissed his forehead before going back into the bathroom. She wet a washcloth with some cool water before returning to the bed, "Come here," She said, climbing over him and sliding down to put his head on her lap. She put the washcloth over his forehead, feeling Mike sigh softly as she did so.

"Just relax," She said in a soft tone as she rubbed his shoulders soothingly. He lifted a hand and she took it, linking their fingers once again. She could still feel his hand shaking, and that made her nervous. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe. Gwen had assured her that Mike would be okay through the night as long as she kept an eye on him, and she was planning on doing just that.

"Thanks, Max," Mike said in a low tone, his crystal blue eyes finding hers as he looked up at her, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand softly. He inhaled slowly and deeply, trying to relax, but it was difficult when the room seemed to be spinning. Finally he closed his eyes, and he felt Max's free hand on his cheek.

"You're welcome," Max responded in a soft tone. After a few minutes of the cold compress on his forehead, Max removed the washcloth and just sat there with him, brushing her fingers through his hair, holding him in silence. She could tell that he was starting to fall asleep on her lap, his breathing starting to even out and his thumb stopping its movements against her knuckles. It was the most that she could hope for, though she could feel that he was starting to get warm again. She inhaled slowly and put the washcloth back over Mike's forehead, causing him to stir slightly.

"Shhh," Max said in a soft tone when Mike shifted as he felt the washcloth back on his forehead. She felt bad, knowing that he wasn't feeling well and she had just caused him to wake up. "You're okay, Mike, I've got you." She knew he wouldn't be comfortable like that for long, though. Mike never slept on his back. "Mike, open your mouth for me," She said, reaching over to the nightstand and picking up the thermometer. A glance at the clock told her that she and Mike had been on her bed for an hour already. How had that happened? "Mike?"

Mike grunted in response, and Max wrinkled her nose at him, regardless of the fact that his eyes were closed, "Mike, open your mouth so I can take your temperature again."

Mike groaned sleepily, but opened his mouth to yawn and Max took advantage of that moment, getting the thermometer under his tongue. She rolled her eyes and remembered what her mom and Jenny had always told her, _Men turn into children when they don't feel well, Max. Always remember that_.

When the thermometer started beeping a few minutes later, Max tried to pull it out of Mike's mouth, only to find that Mike had clamped his jaw down on it, "Really, Mike?" Max hissed, pulling on the thermometer gently. "Mike, let it go," She said in a more insistent tone. She reached under his chin and started to lightly tickle him under the chin, "Mike, I swear I am going to start singing _Let it Go_ to you if you do _not_ give me back this thermometer." The tickling did it, though, and Mike opened his mouth with a soft chuckle a moment before he rolled onto his side, off of Max's lap, and onto the middle of the bed, the washcloth sliding off of his face and onto the bed. Max sighed softly and glanced at the thermometer readout. His temperature had climbed a few degrees in the last hour since she'd checked. That wasn't a good sign.

Max got to her feet and went into the bathroom to get the washcloth a little more wet and to relieve herself. Sitting with Mike's head on her lap had caused her leg to fall asleep too, so she took a minute to try and get that back to normal while she could.

_Agent Weston… Mikey…._

Mike sat bolt upright with a gasp, looking around the darkened room. Where had that voice come from? He couldn't be there. He couldn't possibly be in Max's bedroom. But where was Max? Mike heard the toilet flush, but his heart continued to race, "Max?" He called out.

The bathroom door opened and Max appeared, rubbing her hands on a towel, "What's wrong?" She asked, walking over to him, not missing how he was almost panting. She put her hand on his chest and could feel his heart racing beneath her palm.

Mike shook his head, shifting to lie on his side of the bed, putting his head down on his pillows, "It's nothing," He said with a soft sigh. He rubbed his eyes, "Did you just take my temperature, or did I imagine that?"

"I did," Max said, climbing back onto the bed and settling beside him, wiping his forehead with the cool water from the washcloth. "You've got a fever, but if Gwen's right, it should be gone by morning."

_That's right, Agent Weston, you'll be fine by morning._

Mike jolted, sitting up again, causing a Max's wrist to slap into his forehead. He winced and Max hissed, shaking her wrist and rubbing it gently, "Mike, what the hell?"

"You didn't…." Mike inhaled slowly before he fell back against the pillows with a groan. He glanced at her through uncertain eyes, "You didn't hear anything just now?" Max shook her head, and Mike groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're going to think I've finally lost my mind."

_Oh, she already knows that you've lost your mind, Mikey. Why don't you try telling her something she doesn't know?_

Mike growled softly and Max's confusion became more apparent, "Mike…?"

"I'm hearing voices," Mike said finally. He could see the concern on Max's face and he braced himself for the reaction that she was going to have when he finished telling her what he was hearing. "Well, actually one voice; Joe's voice, Max, it started when you were in the bathroom. First it was just a whisper, but now I can hear it like he's standing right next to me."

"I assure you, Mike, Joe is safely behind bars in Richmond where Ryan sent him," Max said, finding Mike's hand and giving it a soft squeeze. She tried to not show it, but she was worried. Mike hearing a voice couldn't be a good thing. "Close your eyes, Mike. Try to get some rest. I'm right here, and I'm not leaving the apartment, I swear."

Mike held eye contact with Max for a few more moments before nodding and closing his eyes. Max continued to use the cool washcloth on his forehead, alternating between that and brushing her fingers through his hair, trying to keep him calm without falling asleep herself.

_We're going to kill her_.

Mike's eyes shot open. He couldn't move, though. He tried, but he felt like he was paralyzed. He was dreaming, he had to be dreaming, but he felt like he was wide awake. He heard the slightly psychotic laugh that sent a chill of fear shooting through his spine. Before him appeared both Luke and Mark, Luke bearing the signs of the injuries Max had inflicted on him, "You can't kill her, you're dead," He snarled at Luke.

_Oh, Agent Weston, haven't you learned by now that nobody is ever truly dead in our little world?_ Luke asked, kneeling before Mike where he lay on the bed. _I mean, Ryan thought he had killed Joe Carroll at the lighthouse, and he came back from the dead. I assure you, I'm alive and well, and I'm going to personally kill your sweet little girlfriend over there._

Mike followed his gaze to where Max was sitting on the bed, frozen in place, "Don't fucking touch her, you psychopath," Mike growled.

_I'm going to kill her, and my younger brother here? He's going to force you to watch every last second of it and hear her beg for me to stop. And then, when I'm done with her, we're going to move on to you._

"No," Mike snarled. "No, leave her alone!"

"Mike!" Max had moved to the other side of the bed and was shaking him gently. For the last minute or so, she'd been listening to him mumbling. She'd thought he had fallen asleep, but his eyes were wide open, and it wasn't until he shouted that she knew what was really happening. He was hallucinating. "Mike, can you hear me?"

Mike inhaled sharply and blinked a moment before sitting up, looking around frantically. Max got back onto the bed and sat in front of Mike, one hand on either of his cheeks, "Mike. Mike, look at me." Mike's eyes finally focused on hers, though his breathing was coming in sharp pants and his entire body was shaking. "Mike, you're safe, I swear to you, you're safe. You're here in my apartment with me…. There's nobody here but the two of us."

"The twins," Mike finally managed to say in a low tone. He inhaled slowly and deeply. He winced, his chest aching from how hard his heart was pounding against his ribcage "The twins, they were here."

Max shook her head. She honestly couldn't remember ever feeling more concerned for someone in her life, and she'd seen a lot of crazy and worrisome people in her line of work, but this was more personal than any of them, "Mike, I swear to you, they weren't. It was in your head. The pill you took is fucking with your head." She rested her forehead against his for a moment, "Mike, just concentrate on _me_, on my voice, my eyes, _anything_. _I_ am real. Nothing else you're hearing or seeing is."

_Of course she's real, Agent Weston_. _She's always been real_.

"Lily…."

Max saw Mike's eyes lose focus again and she shook her head, "Mike, _no_," She said firmly. "Lily Gray is dead. She can't be here."

"I killed her," Mike said in a low tone, trying hard to focus on the sound of Max's voice. He blinked hard, shaking his head. "I killed Lily Gray. She can't be here because I saw her die after I shot her."

"That's right," Max said, leaning close to Mike, resting her forehead on his shoulder for a moment, "Lily is dead and she _definitely_ isn't here."

Mike blinked and Max could see a tear trailing down his cheek as she pulled back from him, "Max, why is this happening to me?" He was terrified. He'd never experienced anything like this before, and he could only hope that he never would again.

"That _stupid_ pill you were prescribed," Max said with a shake of her head. It seemed like Mike's rational side was back, for the time being. She just needed to keep him talking. She reached up and rubbed away the tears that trailed down Mike's cheeks. "It's causing this reaction. The fever, the shaking, the hallucinations… they're all from the pill."

"I'm never taking that pill again," Mike said with a shake of his head. He inhaled shakily and pulled Max closer to him. Max relaxed against him, understanding that he needed the contact at that point. She pulled back only for a moment to kiss him softly, resting her forehead against his, "Never again."

Max didn't sleep that night. Somewhere around five-thirty Mike finally managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, but at least he was getting some rest. His fever broke not long before he finally fell asleep, and Max had kept him talking, keeping the voices away from his mind. Once Mike had been sleeping for a while, Max got up from the bed. She was dying of thirst, but hadn't wanted to leave Mike alone for anything. She went into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water. She glanced at the bottle of pills, the cause of the hellish night she and Mike had just gone through. She opened the bottle of pills and without a second thought, she dumped them down the sink, turning both the water and the garbage disposal on.

She glanced around, shaking her head as the disposal turned the pills into powder, her eyes landing on the fridge, on a piece of paper that Mike had put up there a few weeks earlier: A referral to a psychiatrist. She took the paper off the fridge, putting it onto the counter, a reminder to get Mike to call the doctor whenever he woke up, and hopefully get some real relief for a change.


End file.
